


crash course in polite conversation

by emeraldcut



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, confused beth, jealous Rio, this is my masterpiece pls enjoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2019-11-04 03:22:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17890568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldcut/pseuds/emeraldcut
Summary: After Beth throws the keys at Rio, he tells her to go home, and she does. 6 months later, he's waiting on her porch.*My take on AU season 1 ending, in which the girls never turned him in.





	1. expiration date

**Author's Note:**

> this is au post 1x09.

"Do you like spinach?"

Beth looked up from the table, blinking. "What?"

David's lips turned down for a split second before he began to chuckle. "Spinach. Green, leafy stuff. Do you like it? They have an amazing spinach artichoke dip. Or... are you just not a big herbivore?"

She followed his stare and found herself looking down at her own salad bowl. She realized she had been stabbing the salad's contents with her fork. Her cheeks flushed, and she unconsciously released her iron-grip on the piece of metal. It hit her bowl with a loud  _clang!_ before thudding onto the table and soiling the white tablecloth. She immediately felt like all eyes were on her, but it was Saturday night in the middle of a popular Italian restaurant, so she could only hope she was imagining it.

Beth cleared her throat. "Yes! I mean, no, I do. I do like it, I mean. I like spinach, I mean. Obviously that's what I meant." She realized she was starting to ramble and tried to force down a nervous laugh, but it only made her cough. "I'm sorry," she said, reaching for her water glass. "I don't know what that was. I was just... somewhere else in my head, I think. But I'm here now. Completely." She placed her glass back on the table and met his eyes, a wide smile plastered on her face.

This time David's chuckle was a full laugh. It was a deep sound that seemed to make his chest vibrate. "No, no, please don't apologize. I think it's normal to be a little nervous."

"Nervous?" Beth echoed, arching a brow.

He hesitated, clearly having caught the slight inflection in her tone. "Nervous," he repeated with a slow nod. "About dating. First dates are especially nerve-wrecking, right?" His cheeks dimpled with a smile.

_Dating. Right._

Beth felt the change in her demeanor but hoped it wasn't as obvious to David as her earlier tone. Beth had been distracted, that was for sure, but it had nothing to do with her nerves.

David was a dentist. He was also blonde, probably in his mid-forties, and the single father to a girl in Kenny's class. His wife had died in a car accident over three years ago. She was struck by a drunk driver after dropping her daughter off at soccer practice.

When his wife had passed, Beth was still blissfully ignorant to her own husband's flaws. Things were different now.

David was attractive, successful, and seemed quite charismatic from what Beth had gathered over the years. But he was a  _dentist_. Dentists talked about things like plaque, flossing, and dental hygienists named Michelle who kept forgetting to properly clean the dental tools between patients.  _Disgusting_.

No, Beth wasn't nervous. She was bored out of her mind.

"Do you want to know a secret?"

Beth remembered the kind of secrets she used to have. Armed robberies, money laundering, lying to the FBI. Something in her stomach tightened, but she ignored it and nodded. "Sure."

David leaned closer, eyes lowering bashfully. "I haven't been on many dates since Chelsea passed. Well, I actually haven't been on any before tonight." He looked into her eyes. His were green and soft, non-threatening. "It's hard, putting yourself out there. I should know." Those dimples again.  _Jesus_.

Beth's lips formed a small smile. It was small, but it was genuine. She suddenly felt guilty for having accepted David's invitation to dinner. Here he was, making a genuine effort to rebuild his love life, and there Beth sat, wishing she were anywhere else.

As she considered all the places that "anywhere else" could be, a warehouse came to mind.

Despite the sadness and turmoil inside, her smile never faltered. Beth leaned forward and placed a hand over his, meeting his gaze. "I haven't been on a first date in over twenty years. I know my situation isn't the same, but you're right. It's hard."

"I was so sorry to hear about you and Dean not working out," David said.

"You can't be that sorry if you asked me out," Beth quipped.

David's eyes went wide momentarily. "Oh! No, I am sorry. I thought I had waited enough time to ask." He paused, his eyes searching her face. "Is there any chance of... reconciliation?"

There was that word again: reconciliation. She hated it. Dean must have learned the word from his attorney, because he had thrown it around at least once a week for months after she first asked for the divorce. They were going on month six of Dean being completely moved out of the house, and he had finally stopped looking at her with those puppy eyes when he picked up the kids.

Six months since Dean had moved out. Six months since the night Rio had fired her. And in those months, she still had not been able to admit to herself which of those bothered her more. She saw Dean twice a week for kid exchanges. She hadn't seen Rio since that night.

"Absolutely not," she said, waving a hand dismissively. Realizing she still had her hand on his, she gave a quick squeeze before pulling away. "I'm glad you asked me," she continued, lying through her teeth.

"I wanted to ask you as soon as Cheryl told me about the separation," he said in a low tone, smirking. He said with a hint of mischief, and for a dentist in the suburbs, it was probably as mischievous as could be expected.

"Really?" Bored or not, Beth was human. She wanted to be wanted. "Why is that?"

"Why wouldn't I? You're beautiful, obviously," he replied, gesturing curtly towards her as if to explain himself. "And you're just so involved, you know? With the kids, with the school. The bake sales, the car washes. You just seem so driven. It's fascinating, you know?"

Beth pulled in a breath. She fought the urge to snort, but even as she spoke, her voice broke. "My volunteer work at the school is fascinating?"

He didn't seem to notice this time. "Oh, definitely! I've seen how you handle those moms." David did kind of a wiggly brow number just then, and Beth almost fell out of her chair from the shock of it all.

_Go on a date, Annie said. It'll be fun, Annie said. Yeah, let's see you sit through this conversation lobotomy, Fun-Time Annie._

"David, I'm going to get dessert to go if that's okay with you."

\----

When David pulled up to the curb in front of Beth's house and turned the car off, he had been talking about gingivitis for ten minutes straight. He finished his blurb about plaque and then turned to her. "I had such a good time, Beth." David reached out and touched her cheek, and although she appreciated the thought, his hand was oily and smelled like a minty orange.

Beth opened her mouth to respond, then she pursed her lips. "The restaurant was amazing," she commented with a wide-eyed look, feeling a little impaired from the force of the mint that wafted over from him. "I had no idea it was even there. Do you go there often? I wonder if it that's busy during the week, or if I could get away with taking the kids. It seemed a little upscale for four sets of roaming hands."

"We can always find out." His voice came out as almost a whisper, and before Beth knew it, he was leaning in with his whole upper body to give her a kiss that she could only assume would taste like Colgate and spaghetti. Beth panicked. In the seconds that his face moved closer to hers, she imagined a meatball on a toothbrush and jumped forward in her seat, her palm hitting the dashboard and jostling the to-go box holding her tiramisu. It fell from its spot there and landed upside down in his lap, chocolate and cream filling and all. As accidental as it was, it did the job. He grunted in surprise and pulled back, raising his hands as if in surrender.

After a few beats of them both being frozen in their spots, David began to chuckle. This time it was less charm and more discomfort. "Tiramisu down!" David exclaimed as he tried to flip the box back over. It did little good to get the chocolate sauce and crumbs off of his khakis.

"David, I'm sorry." Beth chewed on her bottom lip, watching his attempts to clean up the mess. Her mess. Even as relief flooded her, she couldn't help but feel terrible. This guy could not have picked a worse option for his first attempt back into the dating pool. "You're not going to get that out. Dean left some clothes for donation that I haven't gotten around to... Well, you're slimmer than Dean, but they should work for the drive home."

"Are you inviting me inside your home, Beth Boland?"

She felt her cheeks flush, something else he would undoubtedly misinterpret. "I guess I am," she said through gritted teeth, fumbling to get her door open. She stepped out into the crisp evening air, finally free to roll her eyes until David made his way around the car and fell into step beside her.

"Beth, who is that?" 

She had been looking down at their feet moving in unison and hadn't even glanced towards her house. When she lifted her gaze, she felt her blood run cold, like jumping into a pool full of ice. She was sure that her feet had stopped moving on their own, but as she watched her porch, it moved closer and closer, confirming that she was indeed still moving forward. The figure on the front steps also came closer and closer into view until she could see his actual features. He wore dark clothing, a thick jacket hiding much of his frame. The porch light cast a shadow that made it difficult to make out his face until she was standing directly in front of him. He sat on the top step, making him eye level with her as she stared at him from the top of the driveway. She was vaguely aware that David had slowed down and was standing just behind her, no doubt watching with fervent curiosity.

Rio turned his head to the side, making no effort to hide the way his gaze swept up and down her body. When his eyes settled on her face, he held her stare for what felt like an eternity. She really had no concept of how long it was, because her senses had begun to betray her. Mouth dry, vision tunneled, she felt every nerve in her body reacting to his presence. It had been so long since she had felt that electric feeling that it nearly overwhelmed her senses.

When she thought she would drop to the ground right there, Rio spoke. "Elizabeth," he said, his tongue grazing his teeth with each syllable. A second later, he was looking behind her, at her date. When he spoke again, the electricity was gone. It was venom. "Who the hell are you?"

The spell broken, Beth felt something hot start in her chest and move to her fingertips. She could feel David looking at the back of her head, undoubtedly waiting for an explanation. When he moved to step up alongside her, she stepped to the right, blocking Rio's direct view. "What are you doing on my porch?"

Rio lowered his chin, and he smiled. It pained her. "You rather I wait in the kitchen like old times?"

Beth's entire face felt hot. "No! Why do you need to be at my house at all? We don't work together anymore."

"Oh, you worked together?" David's loud tone was in contrast with Rio's throaty timbre. "Beth, I didn't realize you had any employment history. Where did you work?" She turned to him with a look of exasperation. He wrinkled his nose, confused.

"Don't matter where she works or if she works," Rio interjected, narrowing his eyes at David. He was still seated on that top step, arms resting on his knees. "Who are you?" Rio repeated, raising his voice.

David moved forward and stuck out a hand. "I'm David. My daughter goes to school with Kenny. Do you know Kenny?" He glanced at Beth. "Do you know any of Beth's children?"

Rio shifted his gaze to Beth, using a thumb to point at David. "He always asking this many damn questions?"

David turned to her. "Beth, is everything okay?"

"Another question? You serious?" Rio snapped before Beth could process any part of what had just been said.

"Okay, that's enough." Beth raised both hands, one palm facing Rio and the other facing David. "David, this is... He's an old acquaintance of mine." She decided against telling David Rio's name. It wasn't important, at least not to him. She moved forward and ascended the steps, stopping at the top and turning to David. "You still need pants, right?" Her date perked up like a golden retriever and nodded quickly, following her up the steps. Beth gave him a small smile before turning her head down, staring hard at Rio. "Do you want to come in, or are you not finished playing guard dog?"

Rio stared up at her, his gaze unwavering at first. After several seconds, he chuckled quietly, sinfully. "Nah, I'm straight." At first she wasn't sure which part he was responding to, but he rose to his feet and angled himself towards her door, clearly planning to follow the pair inside one way or the other.

Beth unlocked her front door and pushed through the entrance, stepping aside to let both David and Rio in before she closed the door behind them and fumbled around to turn on the main light. When she turned to face them, she was struck by just how different the two men were. David was the personification of white collar in his red sweater vest and khaki pants. Rio, in comparison, was no more than a shadow in his dark attire. It was like night and day had set up camp in her living room and were now facing off.

A solid minute passed of the three standing like that. Rio staring David down, Beth watching Rio expectantly, and David looking... well, not really at anything, but looking clueless and out of place nonetheless. It was the latter who finally spoke. "This is a great place, Beth. I can tell you put a lot of work in to making it a comfortable place for the kiddos," David prattled mindlessly, but she caught his sweeping gaze move across her various piles of disarray: dishes in the sink, a pile of clothes on the floor and on the couch.

"Thanks, David. I do what I can." She should have felt embarrassed at the state of her home. The old Beth would have. But the last six months had taught Beth that she didn't want to be that Beth, and she didn't miss her. And so what if she was having trouble adjusting to the way her life had imploded? She knew David would just assume it was the emotional toll of the divorce, but he would be wrong. Dean's absence only truly upset the children. The true upheaval to Beth's sanity and order was standing right there, watching her. 

Beth cleared her throat. "Let me just get you those pants." She took a step forward, preparing to go to her bedroom, but immediately stopped. She wasn't even looking at him and was still certain she could feel Rio's satisfaction at her hesitation. She allowed herself a weary look at Rio.  _Are you going to play nice?_  The question was on the tip of her tongue, but without so much as a sound, Rio's lips turned upward into a devilish grin. It was his answer to the question she had not needed to ask. Her stomach lurched in the most wonderful way.

"David," she spoke again, still holding Rio's gaze, "why don't you go to my room and change? The box of Dean's old clothes is next to the dresser." Turning her head finally, Beth raised a hand and pointed to her bedroom at the end of the house. 

David's brows dipped together, but he gave an obedient nod. "Oh, sure," he replied, watching them a moment longer before he turned and left the living space.

Beth watched his retreating form disappear through the threshold of her room, followed by rustling and the sound of her bathroom door closing. When she swiveled her head back, she found that Rio had closed the space between them. He peered down at her, chin tucked. He smelled like cinnamon and cologne.

"He sell cars?" came the throaty murmur.

Beth stared at his chest. "No," she said softly. "He's a dentist."

His sudden laugh bolted her out of her haze, and she forced herself to raise her head and look at him, trying to appear grounded. Even his laughter felt intimidating. "A dentist, huh? Lady, you got a type," he snickered.

"And what type is that?" Beth scowled.

"Suburban, white, and boring." Rio raised a brow. "You know he gon' be bald by next year, right?"

She felt the skin on her neck go hot with anger, but there wasn't much she could say. David was handsome, but there was no denying a receding hairline. If she hadn't been so overwhelmed by rage in that moment, she may have even laughed Rio's commentary. Instead she stuck her chin back down, glaring at his chest again. When she spoke, her voice was suddenly small. "What are you doing here, Rio?"

"Came to check in," he said, laughter subsided. "Loose ends an' all that."

Beth's legs weakened at the comment. She flashed to their last encounter, after she had thrown the keys, and remembered the way she had challenged him. Despite her expectations, he had let her return home to her family. He had left her alone for six whole months, and she hated him for it. Was he threatening her now, after all this time? That didn't make sense. She had kept her distance, and so had Annie and Ruby. None of them had snitched. But she  _was_ a bad egg, wasn't she?

Beth allowed herself to look up at him from under her dark lashes. Rio, as predictable as ever, was smirking. He was fucking with her. He was  _always_  fucking with her, just like he had when he used her to move that stupid truck.  _A worm on a hook._ At the memory, shades of red flashed in her vision, and she tore herself away from him, walking to the kitchen just to give her somewhere to go. She walked around the island, placing it between them.

"I can assure you there is nothing loose here," Beth spat.

Something flashed in Rio's eyes. "You sure about that?"

"Excuse me?"

Rio snorted loudly. He gestured between her and where David had retreated to change. "You was bringing that Andy Griffith reject in when you thought it was just y'all two, right?"

Beth guffawed. "What did you just say to me?"

"You heard me. It don't look right on you, playing dumb."

Beth struggled to find words at that, her mouth gaping. "I—I don't—" She babbled incoherently for several moments before finally managing to say, "I can assure you I'm not playing anything."

Rio's eyes narrowed to slits. He held her stare like that before he turned his head, his shoulders rising and falling once. "So what, I leave you alone for a lil' bit, and you just start losing your damn mind?" His tone was accusatory, reminiscent of the last time he pulled a gun on her, when Mary Pat had screwed them all by turning the fake money back in. But this wasn't about money. At least she didn't think it was.

"What does that even—" Beth clamped her mouth shut, raising a hand to her face. She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. She was so caught off guard by his apparent anger that her own frustration had been replaced a sense of unease. When she opened her eyes, she exhaled slowly. "Rio," she said definitely, "what are you trying to say to me?" She defaulted to the same tone she used when she couldn't understand her kids over their crying or shouting.

"I ain't saying shit," Rio snapped back, moving towards her again. "What're you bringing back random dudes here for?"

"Random dudes?" Beth echoed in disbelief. "I went on a date with one man, a man that I know. That my children know."

"Nah, you don't know him."

"What?"

Rio settled on the other side of the counter, standing opposite from her. He leaned into it, eyes searching her face. "You think you know him 'cause why? His kid plays with your kid?"

"Oh, please. I've known him for years, Rio."

"Elizabeth," he huffed, "you ain't listening to me."

"And why should I? You're not making any sense!" Beth threw her hands up. Now she was the one laughing, more out of disbelief than anything else. She felt like she was failing a test she never signed up for.

It was Rio's turn to draw in a long breath. She waited, watching him carefully. He folded his hands atop the counter and leaned all the way over, his forehead almost touching the counter's surface. When he came back up, his lips had formed a tight smile. "Alright, Elizabeth," Rio began again, "what was gon' happen if I wasn't here?"

Beth's face drained of color. She ran her tongue over the roof of her mouth, mulling the question over to be sure she understood where he was going with this. Even then, she didn't really know, because why would he care about this? She opened her mouth to respond. Closed it. Opened it again. As the seconds passed, her resignation became indignation.

Beth placed both hands on the counter and leaned forward. "That is none of your business," she said through clenched teeth, putting emphasis on every other word.

What was this? Last she checked, she only had one soon-to-be ex-husband, and even Dean was never this aggressive with his jealousy—not that  _this_ could be  _that_. Rio had no reason to be jealous of anything she did, not to mention no right. But even just the thought planted a sick sense of hope in Beth's mind, the idea that Rio might not want to share her. The moment she thought it, she felt disgusted with herself.

Across from her, Rio had gone silent, jaw set and tightened. She watched his jawline twitch, an indication he was grinding his teeth. "So that's it? You were gonna do it?"

"Do what?"

"Fuck him."

"No!" Beth cried out without realizing it. "I mean, why would that even matter to you?"

"I just said it, you ain't stupid," he snapped. "No reason for you to invite that kind of trouble into your house."

Beth snorted. "Oh, now you're lecturing me about trouble? I gave up trouble, remember? Because you told me to! You told me to go home!"

"I tell you to grab the first schmuck you could and bring 'em back here?"

"I haven't seen you for months! You haven't been here!"

"And you think that was easy for me?" Rio shouted at her. His voice was so loud and so deep that it jolted her, and she realized they had been yelling at each other. She looked at him,  _really_ looked at him, past all of the anger and exasperation, and saw that his chest was heaving with emotion. It was the most unraveled she had ever seen him. But just as quickly as she noticed it, Rio seemed to close up, his body going still. He turned and started towards the front door.

She was around the island and following him before she could stop herself. "Wha—Wait! Rio, stop!"

He did just that, coming to an abrupt stop and turning around, not moving even when she fell into him. He looked down his nose at her, his chin tilted up in a show of defiance. "What?"

But Beth could only stare up at him, transfixed by the hard lines of his face and the way the shades of brown in his eyes seemed to melt together. She stood there, jaw hanging, feeling hopelessly expectant. She folded her hands and held them against her stomach, frightened to know how it would feel to touch him in that moment, but he was just so close.

"Elizabeth," Rio said, sounding almost impatient in the way he said it. He lowered his voice when he spoke again. "What do you want, Elizabeth?"

Beth didn't want to say anything. She wanted him to talk for a change, to come undone like he had moments before, to stay that way. To validate the way nerves tingled when he said her name. To make her less ashamed of the wanting in her stomach, and the ache between her legs most nights when she was alone in bed and remembering his smile.

David cleared his throat. Beth shifted back on impulse, feeling embarrassed as if both men could read her thoughts, but Rio didn't budge. He seemed mostly unfazed by David's presence now, his attention still on Beth. When she glanced back at him, he watched her, but not in the way he usually did. His eyes were soft, serious, imploring her for something. She didn't know for what.

"I'm going to go," David announced. He no longer looked uncertain or curious. Now he was frowning, solemn, looking between Rio and Beth as if putting together some invisible puzzle. Like he saw something Beth didn't.

When David stepped out of the front door, Beth suddenly remembered that he did know her. More importantly, he knew her son. She didn't want anyone at Kenny's school to whisper about a disaster date that ended with a strange man in the Boland home. She forced herself to move around Rio and out the door.

"David!" She caught up to him at the bottom step. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't expecting him."

He turned slowly to face her, hands in his pockets. He was wearing the same khakis, meaning he was more than likely listening to their conversation versus trying on Dean's pants. He was silent long enough that she had started to feel uncomfortable. "Is he the reason for the divorce?" he asked suddenly.

Beth scoffed. "You have to be kidding," she mumbled, not bothering to hide her eye roll this time.

"Beth," he said gently, as if trying to convey a lack of judgment despite the wildly inappropriate question. When she continued to look at him blankly, he sighed. "It's not my business," he said, surprising her. He looked wistful when he added, "I shouldn't hold my breath, should I?"

She frowned at the question but didn't immediately respond. Eventually she looked down at her feet and laughed mirthlessly. "You know what, David? I'm done answering questions tonight. Thank you for an amazing dinner." She lifted her head and gave him a definitive nod before walking back to the house.

The door was still ajar from when she had followed David. It didn't surprise her when she walked in and found the house now empty, but that didn't make it hurt any less. Her shoulders fell from the overwhelming disappointment that hit her when he realized he was already gone. She knew there was no sense in going after him, in trying to find him or call him. What would she say?

Feeling defeated, Beth started towards the kitchen to pour herself a drink. She stopped when she realized something had been left on the counter where Rio's hands had been.

Her pearls.


	2. ripped at every edge

Annie's fingers idly drummed on the side of her coffee mug. She scrunched her nose and looked up at her sister. "What do you think it means?" Annie asked after a beat of silence.

Beth let her shoulders fall. "That's what you're here to help me figure out," she grumbled.

"How am I supposed to know?" Annie lifted a hand, palm up. "He never even looked at me. He barely even knew me or Ruby existed."

Beth didn't immediately respond. She rolled her neck, turning her attention back to the cup of coffee in front of her, the one she hadn't even touched. The spoon she had used to stir in the creamer still sat upright in the mug. The beige liquid didn't seem the least bit appetizing to her in that moment. She sighed and lifted her head, looking back across the kitchen island at where Annie sat, propped up on a stool where Rio had stood last weekend during their little spat.

Beth's pearls were placed at the center of the island, the subject of their conversation that Saturday afternoon.

It had been one week since her date with David. She had done everything she could to avoid the man since then, even letting Dean get extra time with the kids in the morning so Beth didn't have to risk seeing David during drop-offs. The rest of her time during the past week had revolved around staring at those damn pearls and trying to figure out what game Rio was playing this time.

She had finally decided to call in back-up. Cue Annie.

"He didn't tell you why he was here?"

Beth rolled her eyes. "No, Annie, I told you he didn't." She heard the edge in her own tone but couldn't be bothered to control it. It wasn't fair, really. Annie was only going off of what Beth had told her, which wasn't the full story. She had told Annie everything about her terrible date with David and about Rio waiting on her porch, but Beth had failed to mention everything Rio had said to her, and the venom with which he had said it.

Now Annie raised both hands. "Okay,  _sorry_ ," she said, making the word two syllables. "What do you want me to say here, Beth? You never even told me you left these for him in the first place." Annie reached out and gestured to the pearls in question. She paused before adding quietly, "Which, by the way, sounds very erotic in and of itself. Just saying."

Beth met Annie's gaze, nostrils flaring. "Not. Helpful."

Annie feigned a bashful shrug, but Beth didn't miss the smirk.

"He just said something about checking in. David was here, so there wasn't time for anything more meaningful than that." Even as she said the words, Beth had a feeling that their exchange that night had been meaningful. She just didn't know why.

"True. He couldn't very well kill you with ol' Dave the Dentist hanging around," Annie said, absently gazing off and nodding her head. "That means the date wasn't a total loss, right?"

Beth snorted. "Nice try. Rio or no Rio, the date was a terrible idea, Annie."

"You say that like it's my fault!"

"It is! You told me I needed to date." Beth lowered her voice before continuing, not wanting the kids to hear. "I think your exact words were: 'fill that thing up before it closes up and dies'."

"Okay, that's not even fair! I said that when you were a month into the separation and wearing the same blouse three days in a row." Annie leaned forward, eyes wide as she mounted her defense. "And do you really think I would have suggested a  _dentist_ to help you get back on the sex horse?" She huffed and fell against the back of the stool. "Anyway, since when do you listen to me?"

Beth grimaced. She didn't know which was worse: hearing her little sister use phrases like "sex horse", or the way her pulse quickened at Annie's reference to the beginning weeks of her separation, not because it was painful to remember, but because she hated the way her brain corrected what her mouth never would.

She hadn't been depressed from missing her husband. No, she was completely gutted at Rio's absence from her life.

Beth groaned and leaned over the counter, hiding her face in her hands. "I can't believe he's back," she said, words muffled.

"Try calling him again."

Beth parted her fingers to glare. When she had called before, the number was disconnected, which she had already told her sister.

"What? Maybe he was out of minutes before." Annie shrugged.

Beth rolled her eyes, but she walked around the island to grab her purse from the table. She returned with her phone and posted up next to Annie on a matching bar stool, going to Rio's old contact and hitting the phone icon. A second passed before the loud dial tone came over the speaker phone and the world's most annoying woman sounded off: " _We're sorry. The number you have dialed_ —" Beth ended the call and gave Annie a knowing look.

Annie's cheek fell into her palm. "Okay, let's think this through," she announced, as if that were an actual idea.

"I thought that's what we were doing here, Annie!" Beth's voice squeaked as she said her sister's name, an indication of how worked up she was getting. Annie was infuriating, of course, but Beth's frustration had much more to do with what she wasn't telling her sister about Rio's visits. Their conversation was playing in her mind like a scratched record.

Annie held up her index finger. "Listen to me for a sec, 'kay?" She paused, probably confirming that Beth was actually going to shut up. She scooted over in her small seat, angling her body towards Beth. "Rio is a reasonable guy, right? I mean, as reasonable as a murdering crime boss can get." Annie waved a dismissive hand and shrugged, like those were very minor details. "If you left those pearls to get his attention, he obviously wants the same."

Beth stared at Annie for a few seconds. When she was sure Annie didn't have more to say, she widened her eyes and gestured at nothing in particular. "Okay, my attention. He has that! That still doesn't tell me what the hell to do now."

"That's the part I can't help you with, sis." Annie cocked her head to the side and stuck out her bottom lip, apologetic, then added, "I mean, he knew where to find you after you left those pearls, right? Your house. But you don't know where he lives. So unless you know where gangfriend likes to spend his time..." She trailed off and shrugged, turning her attention back to her cup and draining the rest of the coffee. She slid the mug against the island's marble top, a silent request for seconds. Or thirds. The girl drank caffeine like it could save her life. Or even fix it.

Beth, however, didn't care about Annie's coffee habits. At least not now. Annie's words had sparked an idea. It wasn't a solid one, but then again, Beth was finding her solid ideas were few and far between these days. She blamed Rio for destroying what little sanity motherhood had left her.

"Where are you going?" Annie questioned, furrowing her brows as she watched Beth begin to move around and grab for the pearls, then her coat.

"I need to..." Beth turned and peered towards the stairs. All four kids were upstairs. Without finishing her sentence, she looked back at Annie, pleading in her eyes.

Annie looked suspiciously at her sister. Eventually she sighed loudly, hopping off the bar stool. "Go," she said simply.

Beth bit her bottom lip. It was unsettling that Annie didn't even have to ask where she was going, but maybe it was a testament to their bond as sisters.

_Or Annie's just another person who knows you're in too deep._

"Beth, it's totally fine. They're the same size as me. What could possibly go wrong?" Annie deadpanned.

"Annie," Beth sighed, her purse dropping on her shoulder slightly.

"Beth," Annie countered, raising a brow. "Seriously. I raised one of these things myself, remember? With minimal emergency room visits, might I add."

"Are you sure? Four is a lot different than one..." What she meant was that it was harder, and Annie was a pushover.

"It's all good. I'm tiny but mighty." Annie didn't get much more convincing than this, and Beth knew that, but when Beth didn't budge, Annie's eyes softened. "Go, Beth. Knock 'em dead." She lifted her hands and made pistol motions with her fingers before winking.

Beth laughed and averted her gaze. "Why don't I ever find a real babysitter?"

"Why would you? You got me, babe."

Beth snorted before she turned around and started for the front door, swiping her keys off the side table next to the sofa. "See you soon, Sonny," she called over her shoulder.

"Love ya, Cher!" came the reply before Beth closed the door behind her.

 

\-------

 

As soon as she stepped through the door, Beth was struck by the scent of espresso and something sweet, presumably whatever had just been pulled from the oven. The cafe was busier than she had anticipated, conversations loud and bustling all around her. She had only ever met Rio here during the week while her children were in school. From her spot in front of the door, she had a perfect view of the table where they used to sit, out in the open. She could remember feeling a sense of pride that Rio wanted to sit down with her and discuss their business in an official capacity, not just in a dark park or a dingy warehouse. She felt important, valued, like she had proven her worth to him. Now she just felt foolish.

When she realized the couple sitting there now had noticed her gawking, Beth flushed and gave an apologetic nod before looking away. She started to move, but she didn't know where to go. Her eyes shifted from table to table, hoping to spot Rio amidst the customers, eating an omelette or drinking tea. The thought of him sipping herbal tea still brought a wry smile to her face, but as quickly as the smile appeared, it faltered.

He wasn't there.

A wave of nausea hit Beth. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the embarrassment that washed over her. She opened them and glanced around. No one in the store even knew what she was doing there, and yet she felt the shame of it all so intensely. What was she doing there? Was she really stupid enough to think she could just walk in and find him that easily? Only people like Rio could be so lucky, so cunning. She was ordinary in every way. And she needed to go home, back to her ordinary life.

Before her mind could tell her legs to move, she felt something on the small of her back. A hand.

"Sit down," Rio instructed. Despite the decisiveness of the words, his tone was surprisingly soft.

Too stunned to speak, Beth did what she was told, walking to the back of the cafe and willing her body to lower into a chair.

He took the seat across from her, blatantly staring at her face but not immediately offering any words. When Beth was almost ready to force words out of her own lips, he finally spoke. "You look good, Elizabeth."

Beth's mouth gaped. She was in jeans and a cashmere sweater, which she now realized was wrinkled. It was a far cry from the silky black dress that had squeezed her curves the last time he saw her, right after her date with David. "Thanks," she managed to mutter, unsure if he was being genuine or screwing with her.

"You hungry?"

She shook her head.

"So what are you doing here?"

Beth gritted her teeth. "I came to find you," she said begrudgingly, sure he was already aware of that. "I need to know what you were doing at my house."

"Right, right." Rio shifted in his seat, looking amused. "Only took you a whole week. Guess you were busy, huh?"

"I found you, didn't I?" Beth countered, ignoring what she could only guess was another dig at David.

"Nah, you didn't find me. I had eyes on you."

"Excuse me?"

"I been watching you," he said. "Saw you come in here, figured you were finally looking for me. Like I said, took you a week to move that ass and do somethin'."

Beth scoffed, almost choking in her attempt to respond. "I tried to call you. Your number is disconnected," she said through clenched teeth.

He shrugged. "Too many people had it. I got tired of those telemarketers." He smirked.

Sometimes she couldn't believe the way he spoke to her, the way he acted like he knew everything, how arrogant he was, but the flutter in her gut reminded her that some part of her enjoyed it. She nearly screamed at him, nearly told him how her entire week had spent thinking about him and wondering where he was. Instead she forced her expression to soften and said, "I was deciding if I wanted to see you again."

If he was wounded by her comment, he didn't show it. "And?"

Beth put her hand in her pocket, bringing out the pearls. She placed them on the table with a soft clink. "And I'm here," she offered, her tone even. She searched his face for several seconds. "Why did you come to my house? And don't tell me you were just checking in. We both know that's crap."

Rio ran a tongue over his lips, eyes falling to the pearls on the table. He fell silent, reaching out and running his fingers over the jewelry. When he looked back up, his sardonic grin had returned. "We're back in business. Officially."

"We?"

"Me and mine," he said, raising his chin, and she understood the implication: she didn't fall under the "mine" category anymore.

Beth cleared her throat, trying not to show disappointment. "Great. Wonderful. That doesn't explain why you showed up at my home unannounced."  _And tried to slut-shame me_.

He shrugged. "Needed to see if y'all were still players. Still useful."

Her pulse quickened. "You fired us," she reminded him.

"You ain't ever hear of retention?"

Beth quieted. She stared at the man across from her, feeling somewhat dissociated from the scene unfolding between them. The situation felt fragile, as though one wrong move would send him flying out of her orbit once again. And she absolutely did not want that. As she looked at him, she began to ache, not just for him, but for the life he had given her.

A life she was good at.

"Is that why you were so upset about David?"

Rio lifted a brow in question.

"You obviously didn't want him to be there. You said I shouldn't be inviting trouble." Beth spoke slowly, deliberately. She wanted to give him the opportunity to fill in the blanks, to explain himself, but that was as hopeful as wishing for sand in the middle of Detroit. When he only stared at her, she felt her patience wavering. She huffed and looked away. "What is it, Rio? Do you think you can't trust me to do business if I'm dating?"

His exterior seemed to harden at the subject, but she didn't know if it was real or in her head. Rio put his elbows on the table, leaning forward. "Baby, I don't care about your boyfriends," he said, and his tone had definitely toughened.

"He's not my boyfriend," Beth corrected, annoyed. "I don't have boyfriends."

Rio's jaw constricted before he seemed to ease, lips twitching at the corner. "What about a husband?"

Beth felt her cheeks redden. "Dean. You met him, remember?"

He gave a nod, grinning now. "Car man." He said nothing else, just stared at her.

She sighed, shoulders falling in defeat. "We're separated. The divorce will be final soon." If he knew she was dating and had been watching her, he probably already knew the marriage was all but finished. He seemed to have a pretty good idea as to the state of her marriage even before, at Kenny's birthday party.

Rio had placed his chin in his palm, looking completely enthralled now. "How did he fuck it up?"

"How any man does," she replied. "He cheated," she added, as if the sentiment weren't clear enough.

"Car man's dumber than he looks, huh?"

Beth shrugged. "She was younger than me."

"She ain't you." Rio was shaking his head.

"I guess not," Beth muttered, swallowing hard. She squirmed in her seat, trying to laugh off her nerves. "But that's what they do, right? Men. They find the closest, most willing idiot with boobs and—"

"Not me," Rio interrupted.

"You wouldn't cheat on your wife?"

"I wouldn't cheat on you," he said, not even missing a beat, and it was a good thing she was sitting down, because her legs felt less solid than gelatin.

They fell silent after that. The cafe itself seemed to still, the buzz and chatter of patrons fading away for a few moments as they watched each other.

Rio suddenly leaned back, draping one arm over the back of his chair. He dropped his gaze. "A divorce, huh?"

"A divorce," Beth echoed, a little confused at the shift.

Several long moments passed before Rio's stare was on her again. "Call it off," he said, looking her in the eye.

"What?" It came out louder than intended, and a man at the counter glanced over.

"Call it off," he repeated. "Call the divorce off. Cancel it. Call that fancy attorney you got and tell him nevermind."

"I—Why?  _Why_ would I do that?" Her eyes searched his. "Rio," she snapped at his silence.

Rio's jaw rocked back and forth. It was the first time she saw him looking even a little hesitant. Finally he swiped a hand over his face, shifting in his seat. "You gon' have to stay married. You need to, Elizabeth. I need you to call it off."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess this is a chapter story now!! i really suck at follow through with plotting so god bless us all now. drop a comment and share your thoughts if you feel so inclined. o:)


	3. your mess is mine

"I need you to call it off," Rio repeated, possibly because Beth was just staring at him like an idiot.

A short time passed, and suddenly Beth was laughing. She couldn't stop herself. It started as an incredulous chuckle and gradually escalated to the deep belly kind of laughter that shook her entire body. She laughed and laughed and laughed, so hard that she could feel tears welling in the corners of her eyes, hard enough that a barista and a table full of patrons next to them were looking over, their glances no doubt burning with interest.

Across from her, Rio seemed genuinely caught off guard by her reaction. His face, usually hard and stoic, sort of just fell as he watched her, practically doubled over in her seat and cackling. He blinked a couple of times, in fact, and she found herself wondering if she had ever even seen him blink before that, which only made her laugh harder.

Beth put a hand over her mouth and waved the other in front of her, struggling to speak. "I'm sor—Oh! I'm so—" She sucked in some air, trying to calm herself down, but the more she tried to control it, the more high-pitched her giggles were.

Rio's mouth had formed a tight line. He furrowed his brows. The surprise was gone from his face, replaced by—what, resignation? She wasn't totally sure, but boy, he look pissed, that much she knew.

"You done yet?" he asked, and she could barely hear his words over the laughter, which made her howl again.

People were staring at them now, her gasping and giggling the only noise in the restaurant aside from the espresso machine and a timer going off, somewhere in the back, probably the kitchen.

"Y'all are finished. Get out," Rio snarled at the nearest table, at whoever was unfortunate enough to still meet his gaze, practically growling, and then back to her, tone even, "Stop, Elizabeth. Now."

Beth did stop, if only because her stomach lurched at the sound of her full name in his mouth. She heard chairs scraping against metal as the tables next to them emptied, tails tucked between their legs as they scurried away from the threat of Rio's presence. She cleared her throat, two or three more stray giggles slipping out, and then dabbed at the tears that had pooled in her eyes during the whole hysterical episode. She should have been embarrassed, and she probably would have been in any other situation.

When she was sure she had her composure back, she regarded him. "Okay, go ahead. Spit it out. I can't wait to hear it." But instead of quieting down, she continued, feeling a surge of emotion. "Please, tell me what is  _so_ important in  _your_ life that you felt the need to come back and tell me what to do with mine.  _My_ marriage. My divorce. Come on, let's hear it!"

Rio seemed to soften, just a little bit, dipping his chin. "You saying you don't miss workin' with me?"

"Working with you?" Beth scoffed. He made the whole thing sound so dignified. She glanced towards the counter, wishing for a glass of bourbon, and then she remembered she was in a cafe

"I think we can help each other," he continued, ignoring her dig. "Like we were helping each other before, 'til you threw those keys at me. Remember that?"

"I do remember. And I would do it again." She fixed him with a level stare. Was she referring to the part about helping him or about throwing keys at him? She wasn't sure. Maybe both.

He waited for her eyes to wander back to him before he spoke again. "You need cash?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Elizabeth."

Her entire face flushed. "Don't," she cautioned. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to—"

"Fine," Rio interrupted, and she could swear she heard his voice break on the word. "Fine," he repeated after a moment had passed, as if with new resolve. "You wanna be mad? Fine, be mad. But while you sit there,  _big_ mad, we're losing time. And you know what time is. It's money. Now you gon' hear me out or not?"

She hated him. She was sure of it. She had never looked at a man and felt something so strong, something so close to white, hot rage that she felt herself smoldering from her feet all the way up.

But she did need cash. She had needed it as much as she needed it six months ago, when he fired them. She had needed the money to work out the second mortgage, but instead, Dean was living at his mother's house and working at the dealership from open to close. He also had to let go some of his staff (not his floozy secretary, of course), and they were still struggling to support the kids. Ruby and Stan had to turn down the kidney that had become available, and now Sara would have to finish the school year at home because she needed dialysis three times a week. Annie had to agree to drug court to avoid jail time, and now Sadie wasn't allowed to sleep over or even visit her mother without Greg or Nancy present.

"Okay," Beth said, accepting defeat. "Tell me."

Rio placed his hands atop the table, folding them in front of his chest. He shifted his weight forward. "I had to make some changes. I had to switch it up." He stopped and raised a brow, which Beth guessed was his way of asking if she understood. She bobbed her head impassively, and he cleared his throat. "The feds were too close to Fine 'n Frugal. Imagine that." A jab at her and her friends. No surprise there. "So I had to remove my investments from there and—"

Beth snorted at that. Investments. Like they were brokers on Wall Street.

"And rethink the safety of it, the liability," he continued, speaking through her wordless declaration of mocking, but he averted his gaze, giving away his irritation. "Check myself, make sure I was staying on it. Realized I wasn't. Realized my money wasn't safe anywhere because it had been there too long."

"Why wouldn't it be safe?"

"Doesn't matter."

Beth narrowed her eyes. She mulled it over for a few seconds, and then the fog cleared to show a full image. "He talked, didn't he?"

Nothing. Rio had gone blank.

She pressed on, uncrossing her legs and scooting forward. "He talked. Your boy talked. He didn't talk about the truck, but he talked about something else. About you putting the fake money in—"

"Alright, he talked."

She considered this. "Where is the money now?"

He was shaking his head before she even finished. "You always asking the wrong questions, mama," he rasped.

How long had it been since someone addressed her like that? Dean hadn't called her anything but Beth or  _Bethy_ since their first daughter was born. She had to stop herself from cringing visibly at the memory. Instead she rolled her eyes at Rio's permanent state of obscurity. "So tell me the right question."

"Where the money's going."

"Which is... where?"

Rio grinned, toothless at first, and then widening to show his dimples and his perfect, white teeth. He was watching her, waiting for a reaction. It was clear he had no intention of saying the words aloud.

Beth's blood ran cold. Her face drained of color as she stared back, eyes wide. "No," she managed to say after they had both gone silent.

But the grin remained. He was unwavering. He was proud of himself. This was his triumph, his showpiece, the very idea that made Beth want to shrink into herself.

"No!" Beth said louder. She leaned forward, the bottom of her chest pressed tight against the table's edge. "Are you insane?" she hissed, still gaping at him. "This is our family business you're talking about!"

"Your husband's business," he corrected, like that made any difference.

"It supports all of us. It feeds my children."

"And it's gon' keep doing that. Do more than that, if you an' me being honest, because I know as well as you that that business your man got ain't doing enough on its own." He chuckled and raised both hands, palms up, as if to ask what he was doing wrong. "Am I missin' something? You need this. You need more money in that checking account, don't you, baby?"

"No. It's fake money."

"It was  _always_ fake money!"

"But this is my family we're talking about!"

"Everybody's got a family, Elizabeth."

They were speaking in hushed yells, each leaning further and further over the small table until their faces were just inches apart. Rio's eyes swept the full length of her face, settling on her mouth. Beth felt her lips part, her hands trembling on the table. She stole a glance down at the table, where their hands were also almost touching. She thought she saw his fingers inching towards her closed fist, but when she brought her gaze back up, he had pulled back to a normal sitting position, and Beth fell back in her chair, feeling winded.

Neither of them spoke immediately after that.

When Beth thought she couldn't handle the quiet anymore, she closed her eyes and opened her mouth. "What does that have to do with my marriage?" She knew the answer, but she needed to hear him explain it. She needed him to justify what he was asking her to do.

"I need a body in the business."

"Wow. You really know how to sweet talk a girl."

"Oh, I do." He said it in a way that made her sit a little straighter. He must have noticed, because he bit into his upper lip like it was the only way to stop himself from saying more. Eventually, when the playful glint in his eyes had faded, he spoke again. "Car Man's not going to let you keep an eye on business things if you're draggin' his ass through court. Am I right?"

"I don't have anything to do with the business, anyway. Not really." She hoped the shame she felt didn't reach her words. If she had been involved, Dean never would have been able to royally screw her over. Or his secretary.

"That's going to change," Rio said, matter-of-fact.

"We're not talking about a corner store here. This is a car dealership." She blinked, waiting for her words to spark something for him. When he didn't flinch, she resumed shaking her head. "There's no safe full of cash! There are  _accounts_. Legitimate bank accounts." There  _was_  a small safe, but it wasn't full of money. It had client names and numbers from the beginning of the business, before everything was computerized, and an old handgun Beth's father had given Dean as a way to protect the business, before they could afford an actual security system. Beth was sure the gun didn't even work properly.

Rio's expression remained impassive. "So the money goes there. In the  _legitimate_ accounts." The corner of his mouth curled up as he said it, teasing her.

Beth snorted. "Yeah, okay. Right. I'll just deposit a bunch of counterfeit cash in to my husband's checking account."

"Right," Rio echoed, but he said it was absolutely no playfulness.

Beth's jaw dropped. She felt woozy, like she had stumbled into the Twilight Zone and was stuck swirling around in an awful, nausea-inducing vortex. She searched his face for some sign that he wasn't serious, but there was nothing. He was in impenetrable wall of confidence, making her feel even more lightheaded herself. "Wha—no! How would I even—" She fumbled the words. "There's no way! It's a bank, Rio! Money is kind of their specialty, don't you think?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it's a bank. A bank full of people." His forehead wrinkled. "You think they special? Nah, they're people. People mess up. People mess up when smarter people get involved."

Despite herself, pride puckered up in her chest. She was a good liar, that much was true, but there was something extra gratifying in hearing him make her out to be more than just that. She looked down. "But they check it," she said softly. "They have... machines. I'm not smarter—"

"They got the same shit on Amazon," he interrupted. "The same shit in those department stores. You were okay duping those, though, right?"

Was that true? Beth scrambled to recall the last time she had been inside the bank. Had it been months, even a year? Going inside any establishment with four kids was a pain, so if she could capitalize on technology and stick to the ATM, she absolutely did. The more she thought about it, the more she realized Rio was right. The ones the bank tellers used were bigger, maybe, but she didn't remember them being any more intimidating than the ones in the department stores.

She could do this. Of course she could, but would she?

Beth gritted her teeth. She had wanted back in, but did she want it like this? She forced herself to flash the most convincing smile she could muster. "Well, I hate to disappoint, but it's still not going to work out. Sorry."

"Why's that?" Rio's brows furrowed. He put his chin in his palm, eyeing her with genuine interest.

"Seriously? Come on." Beth huffed out a laugh. "You pull out of the grocery store because it's too suspicious, and now the big plan is to put it with  _me_? The same woman that Turner already ID'ed as your mistress? Please, that's insane."

"Mistress?" Rio's eyes went wide. "You told 'em we was having an affair?"

_Oh, shit._

"Not exactly." Beth squirmed in her seat, looking anywhere but his face. She had forgotten her conversation with Turner, and more importantly, she had forgotten Rio didn't know the details. He had never asked. "I said it was a one night stand," she said with a shrug. "You told me to tell them you were—well, you told me to."

"Right, right. I did." He was nodding his head, slowly, his eyes drilling holes into her face despite her unwillingness to look up. "I also told you to make me sound good," he added in a low voice.

"We're not discussing that!" Beth snapped. She didn't mean to sound as worked up as she actually was, but she could tell she wasn't covering it well. His grin gave that away, clear as day. "That's not the point," she said, her pitch more controlled now. "Turner knows me. He knows me as someone that you know. We can't exactly keep a low profile if I'm making unexplained deposits and still meeting up with you."

The change was instant. Rio's expression hardened, his mouth falling, dimples disappearing. He moved his elbow off the table and let his hands rest in his lap, where his gaze also went. They were both silent after that, and when he finally looked back up, there was something new in his eyes. Something she didn't understand.

Until she did.

Her next words came out in a breath. "You're not planning on seeing me after this."

He lifted his chin, fixed his stare on her face, but she could tell he wasn't really looking at her. He couldn't.

"We're not going to meet again?" Now the words were harder, accusatory.

"Can't," he finally rasped. "Like you said, gotta keep a low profile if we want this to work. I have boys that can meet you in my place. Guys Turner won't know to look for. Fresh meat."

Just like that, the pit that had been gathering at the bottom of Beth's stomach from the second she felt his hand on her back—it opened up, creating a black hole for her emotions. She felt it all rushing through her, and for a minute, she wished she could fall into the black hole herself. Her vision tunneled to the point that she could see only him, or at least the spot on his chest where her eyes were now fixed.

Beth opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She closed it, pursing her lips. She couldn't remember feeling this lost, this disoriented, not since she had found the mortgage papers and the bill collections hidden in Dean's office. 

Of course she wanted back in. She did. But what would it be without him?

As if on cue, Rio cleared his throat. "It's temporary. This little arrangement we're talking 'bout. Six months, that's it. I can move the money after that. For good." He paused. "And when it's said and done, you get one million."

She lifted her head. "What percentage of one million?"

"All of it."

The wooziness was back. "What?"

"All of it," he repeated, raising his voice. "You do this, I give you one million. And then it's finished. Over."

She eyed him suspiciously, forgetting what he had just said about not seeing her, if only momentarily. A bitter laugh came out of her mouth. "You're going to give me a million dollars to keep your money in my bank for a few months?"

"Might be a lil' more to it than that."

"There always is with you, right?" Beth muttered, mostly to herself.

Rio sucked in his top lip, eyes narrowed, but to his credit, he didn't react to the comment, though he undoubtedly heard. "I need his schedule," he announced.

"Who? Dean?" She said Dean's name without thinking. It occurred to her that Rio had never heard her husband's name before today, and now she had said it twice.

He nodded.

"Why? Why do you need to know that?" Her voice broke, panic mounting. Here she was, entertaining the idea of dragging down Dean's business (because, in all likelihood, that's what they were talking about), and yet she balked at the thought of Rio hurting him. He was still the father of her children.

"Easy, Red," Rio cooed. "I need to know when he's in an' out of the building. That's it."

"Why?" Beth pressed.

He hummed, a shoulder lifting as if suggesting insignificance. "I'll need access to the cars. We take 'em out after he's gone, bring 'em back before anyone gets in and notices."

"What are you going to do with the cars?"

He leveled her with a knowing look, and she felt the nausea intensify.

"No. No, that's crazy. Those cars aren't invisible. Dozens of people look at them every day. If there's one scratch, one mile up on the odometer—"

"Easy," he repeated. "Cops don't look for cars in dealerships. And dialing down an odometer ain't rocket science." She was almost positive that he was wrong, that it was more complicated than he was giving it credit, especially on newer cars, but he didn't give her time to stew on it. "And either way, that's not for you to worry about. The cars will stay  _pristine_." He said the word with a cluck of his tongue. "You got my word."

His word? What the hell did that mean anymore, anyway?

"And like I said," he continued, "that's why I need a body inside. I need you there to make sure people mindin' their business, not ours."

"It's Dean's business."

"And now it's yours. You can handle it."

The words hit her like a ton of bricks. It felt like a weight had just been dumped on her chest, the pressure of his words overwhelming her. She immediately felt the familiar tug, that familiar need to follow through. It was hard not to, when he sat across from her, looking so sure and sounding so confidant in her abilities, abilities she struggled to find faith in herself. She felt a surge of gratitude, like he was giving her something she had been looking for. And, technically, he was.

"We good?"

"No. I—" She took a deep breath. "I don't know. I need to talk to Annie and Ru—"

"Nope."

"What?"

"This ain't about them." He craned in, jaw tight. "This is between me and you, Elizabeth. And I need an answer."

Beth glared at him. "This is insane. What you're asking me is—"

"Insane," Rio grunted, rolling his eyes, the first time she had seen him do that. "Yeah, it's insane, yeah, it's whatever else you thinkin' it is. But it's between me and you." His eyes swept her face against, for just a second, and then he was staring into her eyes again. "Are we good?"

And she nodded, quietly, wordlessly, and then he was standing up.

"I'll give you a couple weeks to sort it out with him, yeah?" He moved to stand over her, head dipped to watch her face. When she didn't look up, she heard him sigh. "Two weeks. Someone will be in touch."  _Someone_. Not him.

Minutes after he was gone, Beth was still sitting there, dazed, confused and stunned by her own stupidity. When she finally stood to leave, she realized he had taken her pearls with him.

\--------

Beth swished the alcohol around in her glass. It was the bourbon she had been craving since yesterday afternoon, when she sat with Rio at the cafe. She brought the glass to her lips and savored the burn that rippled down her throat with the first sip. She was aware that it didn't exactly scream "Mother of the Year" that she had put her kids to bed earlier than usual just so she could enjoy her drink, but she was beyond reproach at the moment. Her shame had officially run out of the weekend. Kids could never be too well-rested for a Monday morning, right?

Despite the fact that she hadn't finished what was already in it, she placed the glass back on the kitchen island and poured more liquor in. Her body was buzzing from the interaction with Rio yesterday, and she didn't know how else to numb it at this point. She couldn't talk to Annie or Ruby—which was a completely separate kind of demon for her to drown on another night.

The front door closed softly behind her, steps approaching. She didn't have to turn around to know he had stopped a few feet behind her. He was standing quietly, suit jacket hung over one arm, briefcase in the other. She had seen the same image every day for years and years.

"Did you get my text?" Beth asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did," Dean replied, sounding cautious. Eventually he stepped over to her, putting his briefcase on the island. He looked between Beth and her glass of bourbon. "Where are the kids?"

"In bed. They were tired."

He nodded slowly. "Okay. Good. That's good. They don't need to hear this conversation, I guess."

She sighed. "What conversation, Dean?"

"Are you kidding, Beth?" He let out a mirthless laugh. "You kicked me out, you filed for divorce, and now you text me asking to work it out?"

"You screwed your secretary."

"That is.... true. That's true." Dean swiped a hand over his face. "Are you going to talk to me? Are you going to tell me what changed your mind?"

"I thought you would be happy," she said softly, taking another sip.

"I am happy, Beth." He took a step closer. "I'm just confused. We can't keep doing this to the kids. We're messing with their heads. Danny wants to quit soccer, Jane isn't turning in homework—"

"Exactly. We can't do this to them." She angled her body to face him, tilting her head back to look at his face. Despite the pleading in her eyes, she felt empty inside. She had to. How else could she force herself to ruin the man she had married? Or maybe she wasn't ruining him at all. Maybe she could save them, save the kids, and then quietly step back to let Dean move on. Lord knows she wasn't what he needed, even if he didn't understand that yet.

Dean's brows furrowed. "They're okay, Beth. They will be, anyway. Staying together for the kids is so overrated, right?" He offered a small smile, but there was something sad to it. It was a little disorienting to hear Dean talk like this after the guilt trip he had played before.

"We're a family. We're going to make this work."

His smile faltered. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes. I promise, Dean." She forced herself to smile. "We need to make this work. God knows we can't afford a divorce, anyway." The dark chuckle that followed was completely genuine, but she let it fade out quickly.

"You can't keep doing this to me, either, Beth. Listen, I know I messed things up in a pretty epic way, but I love you. I do, okay? And if you're not sure you love me—"

She fixed her stare on him and attempted to convey certainty, warmth. "We can do things to make this better. I know we can." She took a deep breath. "And we can start by spending more time together. Like at the dealership." She quickly turned away, grabbing the liquor bottle and moving to put it up.

"The dealership?" Dean followed her to the other side of the island. "You're never at the dealership," he chuckled.

"And we see how that turned out," Beth deadpanned, spinning on her heel to give him a knowing look.

He shrank back a step. "What are you going to do at the dealership?"

"I can help out. I can talk to people, I can answer phones so you and the associates can focus on the customers." Beth's face was beaming now, lips tight over her teeth. "Maybe I can even run errands. Get you guys lunch, run to the bank. That sort of thing."

"Honey," Dean began, and then he stopped short, looking like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He cleared his throat and mumbled, "Well, Amber usually does that sort of thing..."

Her smile remained, but she felt her cheeks redden. "I'm sure she does, sweetie. But now I can do it. And letting Amber go will really save us some money, don't you think?"

He didn't look convinced, but he also knew better than to defend his mistress's position at the company. "No, you're right. I would love to have you at the dealership." She could see the twinkle in his eyes start to appear as his doubts fell to the side. The goofy, unsuspecting man she had married was re-emerging, excited at the prospect of having his, in Annie's words, "little wifey" back.

"I'm glad to hear that," she said, "but Dean? I don't think you should move back in. Not yet. Like you said, we can't mess with the children's heads too much."

Disappointment crossed his face. "You want to work it out and not live together?"

"Dean." Beth reached out and touched his hand. "We need to do this the right way. If we don't, it could just fall apart." She spoke with patience. "Now," she continued, stepping away and crossing over to the staircase, "are we clear?"

Quietly, wordlessly, Dean nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do i even need to say that rio will fail at staying away from beth? i think we know, but i'll say it anyway, for anyone who is worried: he cannot stay away, in canon or in fanfic.  
> ps. it should go without saying that i am no criminal mastermind, so we're going for enjoyable here, not believable. :')


	4. the sound of silence

It was quiet in the Boland house—too quiet for a Thursday evening, when the kids should have been home and running about, Emma at Beth's heels, Kenny and Danny arguing about something gross, and Jane gradually increasing the volume on her Disney program despite Dean's warnings to stop (and okay, could you blame the kid for ignoring him? Dean had zero follow-through, even little Jane knew that).

Beth stood still, in the space between her kitchen and the living room, trying to soak up the rare moment of serenity. The stars had aligned to allow for all Boland children to be otherwise preoccupied for the night. Kenny was away at a tournament, Danny had gone to Annie's for a movie night, and the two girls were spending the night at Ruby's to hang out with their idol, Sara.

With the exception of the washing machine's soft lull, Beth heard only silence. It made her skin itch.

It was unsettling how much she resented the quiet, how she hated her own privacy, how she  _craved_  the feeling of being caught off guard and watching her world spin out of her control, even for just a second—Beth, the same wife and mother who would have, once upon a time, killed for the chance of an empty house, the promise of an undisturbed bubble bath.

Her recent weeks had mirrored the six months following her key-throwing fight with Rio: a life full of packing lunches and endless laundry. So far she had managed to avoid the PTA crowd, but she knew that if the plan didn't start to move forward, she was going to be just bored enough to return Peggy's call and agree to help organize the next canned food drive. The thought of it made her shudder with dread. She had been reminded of the rush that came with Rio's lifestyle, and despite her initial reservations, she was committed to do exactly what he had suggested.

Because she had to, didn't she? Even if Rio didn't want her including Annie and Ruby, Beth knew that she was doing this for them as much as she was doing it for herself and her children. And if Annie ever found out that Beth had turned down a full million for  _any_ reason, there would be no consoling her.

But Rio had said two weeks, and now two weeks was becoming three weeks. It was an itch she couldn't scratch.

Beth took a deep breath, pushed her shoulders back, and started towards the kitchen, willing herself to finish the dishes and try to remind herself how lucky she was to have a moment to herself. She had already survived six months with no crime, and she was still standing. If patience was a virtue, Beth would be a saint for the day.

Just before she reached the kitchen island, the doorbell rang, and the sound was enough to break her resolve. Beth stopped dead in her tracks, her body still angled towards the kitchen, but her eyes focused on the front door. A small voice in her head reminded Beth that she lived in the suburbs, and guests should be expected, but a louder voice told her that not all of her guests were equal. Then again, her  _preferred_  guest never rang the doorbell, did he?

She stood in place and held her breath, hoping that whoever it was would assume she was busy or that, despite the mini van parked in her driveway, she was out for the night.

The universe just wasn't on her side. The bell chimed again, and Beth huffed, marching towards the house's entrance, but once she reached the door and yanked it open, she found her porch was devoid of any person. There was, however, a black duffel bag on the welcome mat (which appropriately read  _Beware of Kids_ , gifted by Annie). Beth stared down at the duffel bag, feeling a warmth spread through her stomach and shoot down to her feet. It was followed by the quickening of her heartbeat, her pulse pounding in her eardrum, and  _finally_ , she thought, bending at her knees to reach down and touch the bag.

A pair of feet appeared on the porch just then, and she stopped, half crouching. She squinted at the feet—well, not the feet, but the shoes. They were brown loafers, leather,  _real_ leather, and they looked incredibly out of place next to the dingy chalk drawings of green birds and yellow dogs. Beth lifted her gaze and found David the dentist smiling down at her.

"Beth! Wow, imagine that! You know, I didn't even know if I would knock or anything," David was prattling on as Beth straightened. "The whole drive over here, I told myself, David, maybe this is a bad idea. I was telling myself the same thing when I parked, and when I was walking up the drive. And then here you were!" He gestured to her, his eyes absolutely glinting as if her presence on her own porch were the most magical part of his day, and as cheesy as he looked in his sweater vest and his rolled sleeves, loafer-clad feet, he was handsome in the most endearing way.

"David, hello," Beth said in response, a little too loudly, hoping it would stop his rambling. She was suddenly aware of the ominous looking duffel at her feet. "What can I do for you?" Beth managed to say as she side-stepped the bag and positioned her foot in front of it, trying to nudge it backwards.

"I didn't think things ended so well after our date."

"I don't know what you mean," Beth lied.

David frowned, falling silent, maybe questioning which direction he should take the conversation. He took a step forward, hands in his pockets, and looked down at her with genuine hope in his eyes. "Whatever that was... It's not my business. And if you tell me it was nothing, I'll believe you, Beth. I would do just about anything for a shot at another date with you."

And she should have loved to hear what he was saying. She should have basked in the fact that he was so interested, so smitten by her, that while she was shriveling away at Dean's neglect, someone had been admiring her, but all she could do was think about the  _that_ he was referring to. She knew he was talking about Rio and his... intensity that night, for lack of a better word. She imagined doing what he said, telling him it was nothing, but even the idea of saying those words aloud made her feel sick. And, honestly, unreasonably annoyed at David's existence.

Suddenly Dean's voice cut through her internal dialogue like Freddy Krueger's talons. "Beth? What's up?"

In perfect unison, Beth and David turned their attention to Dean, who had stopped further down the porch and was looking between the pair, brows furrowed, his signature, goofy half-grin smacked across his face. That was the face Beth had fallen in love with, a look she had once associated with innocence, but now it just always seemed like Dean was on the verge of asking a question that he never had the balls to spit out.

"Hey, man, what's up?" Dean had refocused his attention to David and was standing next to them now, reaching out a hand. "Are you like, selling something or what? Because I have to say, I've never seen any door-to-door guy ever get her  _outside_  the house." There was something else in his voice, a hint of discomfort, like he couldn't stomach the thought of any other reason for a male caller at Beth's door.

"Dean, this is David. His daughter is friends with Kenny," Beth interjected. At Dean's blank response, she gritted her teeth and raised a brow. "You remember Blair, don't you? Really sweet girl. She was at Kenny's party last year." She shot a gentle smile in David's direction when she mentioned his daughter's name, and she watched his smile return at the compliment.

"Totally! Yeah, Blair! She's great, man, really great." Dean resumed looking between them, nodding his head despite the fact that Beth was sure he had no clue who the child was. "Is she, uh, here? I didn't think Kenny was old enough for girlfriends just yet."

The comment was enough to make David look annoyed, and even though Beth was embarrassed by Dean's lack of tact, she was also impressed that he had managed to spoil the dentist's mood. David recovered quickly, clearing his throat. "No, she's not here," he responded. "And I can't speak for Kenny, but Blair is  _not_  old enough for boyfriends." He glanced at Beth and gave her a small smile, but when he shifted back to look at Dean, the smile noticeably faded.

Dean blinked. "Oh. Alright. So... what do you need, Dave? How can we help you?" When he said it, he moved closer to Beth, reaching to loop an arm around her waist.

She twisted out of his reach. "He's here to see me, Dean," Beth snapped, narrowing her eyes.

"Oh," Dean said again, the word falling flat.

"I wasn't trying to interrupt," David offered after a tense moment of Beth and Dean staring each other down, Beth looking undoubtedly irate, and then there was Dean, as clueless as ever. And then David asked, "I'm sorry, Dean, didn't you move out?"

"He did move out," Beth supplied quickly, lifting a hand. "I'm sorry, David, now's just not a good time."

Something crossed over David's expression, and then there was something else in his eyes, something that was neither kind or cruel. It was the same way he had looked when he saw Beth and Rio practically touching the night of their date. David pushed out a breath, a little louder than a sigh, and quickly shook his head. "Nothing's wrong," he said, holding Beth's stare the entire time. "I'll leave you guys to it. But Beth, if anything changes..."

"You should call Peggy," Beth said quickly.

David frowned. "What?"

"Call Peggy Anderson," Beth said again, feeling Dean watching her, but  _screw this_ , she thought. Resenting one middle-aged man was enough, and David had done nothing to her. He deserved happiness, even if it would never come from her. "Her husband died overseas, you know. I think you guys would really hit it off."

David nodded, clearly resigned, before saying a goodbye to Dean and heading back to his car. Beth watched him go, feeling a pang of sadness for something she would never have. If she were a normal person, a better person, could he have made her happy?

"That was  _weird_ ," Dean said suddenly, letting out a rough laugh, followed by, "What's this?"

Beth looked down at the duffel. She barely hesitated before responding. "Oh, it's Sadie's. Apparently there's some crazy bed bug outbreak at St. Anne's, and Annie didn't want to risk it before she could afford to wash  _everything_  in the house. Twice." She lifted one shoulder. "It's not like she has a porch to leave it on."

Dean's nose wrinkled. "Huh," he mused. "Bed bugs in a fancy private school. Who knew, right?" He chuckled, mostly to himself, and then started towards the door.

On impulse, Beth reached out and touched his chest, holding him there. "The kids aren't here, remember? Kenny's at his tournament, Danny is—"

"Of course I remember. That's why I'm here." His expression eased, his gaze dropping to where she was touching his chest. "I thought we could talk, spend some time together. Like you wanted." His eyes glinted with hope, and even as every molecule in Beth's body rejected the guilt, she couldn't help it. She had asked him to work things out, and it's not like he knew what she was planning.

"Fine," Beth blurted, and then she straightened, catching the way he deflated a little. She softened, lowering her hand and turning to open the door. "No, you're right. And lucky for you, I made enough spaghetti to feed a small—"

As soon as she cracked the door open, she saw him, sitting atop the dining room table, legs dangling as he looked down at something in his hand. In the seconds between her catching sight of him and then gasping as she reeled backwards, Rio looked up and grinned.

" _Army_!" Beth shrieked, pushing herself back into Dean and slamming the door. She spun around, her back hitting the door as she braced herself against the frame and blocked him, as if he could see through the door itself and would knock her out of the way.

" _Whoa_ ," Dean said, simultaneous to Beth knocking him back. He looked at her, wide-eyed, his hands up. "What? What happened? You see a giant rat or something?" He laughed at that, but when she didn't immediately deny it, his face paled. "Wait,  _did_ you see a giant rat?"

"Not exactly," she muttered, closing her eyes. Her head was suddenly pounding. "It's not a rat," Beth said. "I think... it's my stomach. I don't feel so well."

 Dean stared at her, and she wondered if maybe she had lost her touch for fibbing, but then he ducked his head down and gave her a knowing smile. "Is it cramps, sweetie?" He said it softly, gingerly, as if the neighbors might hear that Beth was having a menstrual cycle, and she wanted to tell him that after giving birth to four children, her uterus operating appropriately should be no surprise to anyone, but instead she nodded quickly. Dean stuck out his bottom lip, no doubt a sympathetic gesture, and then leaned in to give her a quick peck on the lips, like he could catch whatever she had by lingering.

Beth waited until he had backed out and turned off of their street before grabbing the duffel to take inside. She hesitated at the door, collecting herself, and then stepped inside, careful not to immediately look over and gape at him with accusation. Even if she didn't look at him, she could feel his presence to the right of her, no doubt in the same spot on top of the dining room table. She dropped the duffel bag and crouched down, yanking the zipper over to open it.

While she pretended to be overtly interested in the bag full of cash, Rio cleared his throat. "They ain't coming in? I thought we could all have dinner," he remarked, each word dripping with amusement.

"How long have you been here?" Beth asked, straightening to stand but still staring at the bag's contents.

"Who you think brought the money?"

"You said it would be someone else."

"Good thing it wasn't," he retorted, and she could feel him watching her, staring hard at the side of her face. "You win a popularity contest and not tell me?" The amusement sounded dangerously close to hostility now.

Beth turned to face him, folding her arms across her chest in an attempt to guard herself from his hard gaze, but when she finally got a real look at his face, it wasn't his stare she needed protection from, but the heavy pit in her own stomach that radiated heat. Now that she was actually looking at him, she could see it was a picture frame in his hand, and it made her feel so disarmed, him looking at her private images and going through her things. There was another feeling there, though—a thrill that came with his presence, the way she imagined him waiting in the shadows, waiting for  _her_.

He had turned his head to the side, watching her, anticipating her response. But she refused to indulge in his petulance, if only to avoid giving him the reaction he wanted.

So she cleared her throat and walked to the table. "What happened to the plan?"

"This is the plan," he rasped.

"You said we couldn't meet anymore," she reminded him, and even as she said it, she was overwhelmed by the relief of it, that he had broken his word, no matter the reason.

"I don't hand out piles of cash without making sure everything's straight," was his reply, followed by a shrug, and it was hardly the most convincing response he'd ever given her, but before she could say anything, he was waving the picture frame and speaking again. "Which one's this?"

Beth moved closer, squinting at the blurry image as he moved the frame around, and then she gave up, reaching out to grab his wrist and steady it. She caught the way he broke out into a grin when she touched him but avoided looking him in the eye, instead smiling down at the picture of her youngest. "Emma," she supplied, sounding out both syllables with pride. Emma's name was the only one she had chosen on her own, and only because Dean was hardly around during her pregnancy.

Rio made a clicking sound with his tongue, nodding, and she felt it, when he stopped looking at her and resumed looking down at the picture, like he was studying it. She used the opportunity to steal a glance at him. She was close enough that she could see each hair from the stubble on his face, how the brown in his eyes faded to a lighter hazel in the centers.

She was scanning the edges of his nose with her eyes when he suddenly leaned in. "You can let go now," he whispered, voice hoarse. "Unless you just like touchin' me. I'm not complaining either way, darlin'," he added, craning his neck to force her to look at him, even for just a second.

Beth dropped his wrist and turned away, but she really had nowhere to go, nowhere else she even wanted to be in the house, so she just stood there, a few feet from where he sat, her back to him and her breath shaky. She heard him when he hopped off the table, and then he was standing at her back, reaching around her to place the picture on the buffet in front of her, which was not where he had found it, she knew, but she was too distracted by the way he let his arm brushed against hers when he pulled his arm back.

"You got any more guests comin'?" His breath was hot on the back of her neck, and then he was touching her, or more specifically, the spot behind her ear where her head met her neck.

"Are you staying?" She impressed herself with the levelness of her own voice in that moment.

"You want me to?"

"How much is in the bag?"

Just like that, his hand left her neck. "Fifty," he said, sounding a little gruff now.

"Is that all of it?"

He responded with a low chuckle. "Nah, it's the first installment of many."

"Many?" Beth spun to face him, eyes wide. "How am I supposed to make  _many_  deposits of fifty grand at a  _bank_?"

"Figure it out."

Her cheeks flushed at that, heat creeping up her neck. She squared herself in front of him, hands on her hips. "Is this another game?"

His expression hardened. "'Scuse me?"

"I told you, I'm not some worm on a hook," she pressed. "If you're playing some angle—"

The glimmer in his eyes was gone. His jawline constricted as he gritted his teeth. "I offer you a million to do this, and you still on me about some shit that happened months ago?"

"I have a family to think about here." She spoke slowly, carefully. "Maybe I get a million dollars, maybe I end up going down for you. Or am I still not allowed to ask questions?"

He was quiet after that, but she didn't know if she believed he was really considering it. He opened his mouth and then closed it, turning his head away from her. She had seen him do this before, how he caught his anger and held it, turned it into something productive, and she couldn't help but admire it. He made it seem so easy to control his emotions. She also hated him for it, because at that moment, her stomach felt like the home of a hurricane.

"Just answer my question," she snapped, exasperated. 

"Why? You don't answer mine," he shot back immediately, glaring at her now.

She scoffed, furrowed her brows. "What does that mean? What questions did you ask?"

"Your friend. Dick, Don, Dale—"

"David?" Beth interjected, her voice high-pitched in her disbelief.

"Whatever the fuck it is," he spat, and as soon as he said it, heard the venom in it, she knew his annoyance had turned to anger.

She gaped at him, almost speechless,  _almost_ , if not for the fact that she was exhausted and angry herself. A bitter laugh came out as she threw up her hands. "What the hell is your problem?"

"You—" He stopped, sucked in his top lip. He was doing it again, trying to pull his anger in, but she didn't want that. She couldn't stand the way he spoke to her, but if he shut down, he would inevitably leave.

"What? Are you jealous?" She laughed again, challenging him, but despite her power play, her pulse throbbed in her ear.

Rio froze at that. He didn't speak, didn't offer any retort, didn't even rock his jaw, but his lips parted, and it was barely noticeable, but he looked momentarily paralyzed by the question, and it knocked the breath out of her. The hurricane in her gut rushed up into her chest, making her chest cave, and she prayed he couldn't see the way her body reacted to his silence.

And then, out of nowhere, Rio was moving forward, walking right by her. "Deposit it by tomorrow," he grumbled as he passed.

Even though she didn't immediately know where he was going, she was on his heels. A wave of panic hit her when she realized he was heading towards the back door, leaving the same way he came in.

"Where are you going?"

"I got business."

"I thought this was business."

He stopped and looked over his shoulder. He looked her up and down. "I did my part," he said.

"So this is it? It's one of your boys from now on?"

"I told you, I ain't answering your questions."

She wanted to scream, wanted to punch him, wanted to yell that no, he never told her that, but she couldn't think fast enough with the looming fear that this was really it, the last time she was going to see him. "I want you to stay," she was saying. "You asked if I wanted you to stay. I want you to stay now."

He was already on the move, stepping around the kitchen island on his way out the back. "Why? So I can watch you do the dishes? Arts and crafts?" He threw another look at her over his shoulder, laughing darkly, menacing. It was  _mean_. He was being  _mean_  to her.

"Dishes tonight, crafts on the weekends," she muttered, trying to ignore the way it stung.

He snorted, facing forward just as he hit the door that lead to her backyard.

And she should have let him go, should have told him to take his money and leave her alone, but that's not what happened. "I missed you," Beth said, blubbering, finally aware that she was teary-eyed, and she stopped a few feet from where he stood with his hand on the door.

The words fell out of her mouth like broken glass, and now she couldn't step anywhere without slicing herself open on them.

Rio was still for a moment, knuckles turning white as he grasped the doorknob. The air was thick with the tension that their words had created, but by some miracle, he didn't disappear out the door. When he finally turned around, his expression was soft, almost vulnerable. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, watching her, wordless, and she wondered if he even knew what to say. Was he going to tell her she was an idiot? Was he going to remind her, even clearer, that she was just some desperate housewife he could use?

"C'mon," he said softly, jerking his chin towards the sink. "I'll help you."

Beth stared at him, blinking, unable to move. Her entire body was buzzing, but at least the tears had stopped. She could feel where they had trailed down, leaving dry spots on her cheeks. One had found the corner of her mouth, leaving behind a hint of salt on her tongue.

Rio was standing in front of her then, even closer this time. She could smell his aftershave. He lifted his hand and brushed a finger down her cheek, slowly, and then the other. She realized he was wiping the tears away. When his finger reached her jaw on the second stroke, he held it there, and then he brought his thumb up to touch her bottom lip. But it was over too soon, his hand dropping to hers. He gave her a tug, but she stood still, unwavering.

Beth pushed her chest out. "Are you sorry?"

"For what?"

She wanted him to apologize for what he had just said, for how he was acting, and even though she knew that and she was sure he knew it too, instead she whispered, "Any of it?"

He smiled then, squeezed her hand. "Maybe. Some of it."

"Tell me," she breathed. "Tell me what you're sorry for."

His eyes were on her lips again, but he didn't say anything. He looked so conflicted, so transfixed by whatever he saw when he looked at her mouth, but he didn't say anything, and he didn't move closer. He let go of her hand and walked to the sink, flipped on the hot water, and pushed his sleeves up. After a few seconds, he glanced back at her. 

"C'mon, ma. You gonna wash or dry?" Rio asked with a smirk.

Beth smiled back. "I'll wash, obviously," she supplied, joining him at the sink. She gave him a pointed look as she picked up the first dish and started scrubbing. "Don't leave water marks," she cautioned.

Rio laughed at that, a real laugh, and then jutted his bottom lip, bobbing his head in understanding as he took the dish she handed him. "You're the boss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will be brio-centered goodness + beth being a boss.


	5. cinnamon

Woodward Avenue was a sea of bodies, people moving this way and that way, shuffling about mindlessly like an ant colony set loose, which meant lunch hour in downtown Detroit was in full swing. One Kennedy Square acted as a backdrop for the hustle and bustle of hungry professionals in search of their afternoon fix. Translucent, emerald tinted panes of glass made up the walls of the building and gave the illusion of twice the number of pedestrians.

Beth stared at the reflection of her car in the green glass, parallel parked at the curb in front of the mid-rise, mostly just to avoid meeting the eye of her passenger. She wasn't sure how long they had been sitting in silence, but she knew she didn't like the feeling.

"Don't be mad at me," Beth said finally, shoulders falling, and just the smallest amount of pleading in her tone.

Despite the silence that followed, Beth didn't miss the way that Ruby clutched her purse tighter in her lap—it made Beth's stomach curl. She had brought Ruby along for support, for comfort, out of  _habit_ , because even if Rio had told Beth she couldn't include Annie and Ruby in this master plan of his, Beth had never had a plan that didn't involve Ruby. The problem was that she couldn't tell Ruby that any more than she could tell her the actual master plan, so there they sat in this awful, silent impasse, and Beth couldn't help feeling like she had already made a mess of everything.

"Ruby, please," she tried again, forcing a smile. "I'm just making a deposit for the dealership, okay? I brought you along for moral support. Support can't be mad at me!"

"I'm not mad," Ruby countered, her tone eliciting the distinct feeling of a reprieve. "I just want to know," she continued, louder this time, "when  _exactly_ you think I was born. Do you think it was yesterday? The day before that?" She turned her head, squinting in Beth's direction. "Because you and me? We've been through this, Beth.  _All_  of this. So I know for a fact that there's only one place you got that duffel bag full of cash. And listen, I don't know how his punk ass got you this—"

Beth snorted. "Oh, come on. You're making a lot of assumptions there."

Ruby was glaring now. "Seriously? You wanna play me like that?" She paused, and when met with Beth's imploring gaze, she could only shake her head and shift away in her seat. "How the hell am I supposed to provide moral support, anyway? I don't even know what I'm morally supporting."

"You're supporting me," Beth offered. "I have everything under control."

"That's my point, Beth. You don't have to control any of this on your own, I thought you knew that."

Beth felt her gut twist. When she opened her mouth to speak, it was dry, and there were no words. Instead she reached across the console and pressed her fingers atop Ruby's strained knuckles. Ruby's eyes dropped to where their hands met, and in the moments that her gaze lingered there, Beth could see the resolve to stay angry slipping away. She took the opportunity to reach behind her seat and retrieve an envelope from the duffel bag. When she had adjusted herself back in to her seat, Ruby was staring at the envelope in Beth's lap with reluctance.

Ruby lifted her gaze. "Can we get this going? I need to hide our good silverware before Stan's mom comes over for dinner." At Beth's questioning look, Ruby's brows shot up, eyes wide before she even began mounting her defense. "Stanley can defend her all he wants, but I  _know_  that old bitty took Sara's music box, and the watch that my mom gave me before she died, and God only knows what else! She has to get her QVC fix somehow."

"Could've been Annie," Beth deadpanned, and the two erupted into laughter. When the giggles had mostly cleared, Beth found her voice again. "If I come out of there in handcuffs," she said, "do me a solid and take the green bean casserole out of the freezer." She killed the engine and extended the keys to Ruby, dangling them from one finger.

"The full story gets you freezer favors." Ruby took the keys, albeit begrudgingly. "No story gets your car back in the driveway, and a courtesy call to Dean to post bail."

"Noted."

\-------

By the time Beth made it inside the bank, she hadn't realized she was holding her breath until she stepped inside and felt sweat gathering at the base of her neck. A whoosh of air escaped her mouth at the same moment she made eye contact with a security guard near the service line. She could feel the momentum that had been pushing her forward start to stall as the guard's eyes swept up and down her form. He had broad shoulders and biceps the size of Beth's torso, and that was only a slight exaggeration. His eyes lifted and settled back on her face, his mouth curving upward, and Beth realized he hadn't been suspicious at all; he had been leering. She would have been flattered if she weren't so busy being terrified.

She pushed forward and found a spot in line, idly fingering the manila envelope resting in her bag. She had only brought in $10,000 of the fifty that Rio had left with her. It occurred to her that maybe she should have googled what an acceptable sum for a deposit was, the special number that didn't elicit a mandatory investigation. That wasn't an actual thing, was it? There was no way, Beth tried to caution herself, but the reality was that she had no idea. She had been so paranoid about the bank's method for checking the quality of the cash that she hadn't spent nearly enough time considering the quantity.

"Ma'am?"

Beth blinked, searching for the source of the voice. A bank teller a few feet away was waving her forward. Beth immediately flushed red, realizing the woman had probably already called for the next person, and stepped up to the counter. The teller was a petite brunette with round eyes and dark curls framing her face. She wore a blazer with a gold name pin on the lapel, which read  _Jessica_  in crisp black lettering.

"Hi there! I'm sorry about that. I don't know where my mind was there for a moment." Beth chuckled softly as she spoke, brushing her own hair out of her eyes. "You ever have one of those days?"

"Oh, absolutely," replied Jessica, sounding as sweet as she looked. "It's no problem. What can I do for you today, ma'am?"

"I'll be making a deposit. It's for my family's business." Beth maintained her smile as she reached in to her purse and pulled out the envelope. She placed it gingerly atop the counter and kept her hand over it. "It's going to be a larger sum. Ten thousand." When Jessica didn't flinch or start screaming for security, Beth dug around in her wallet and handed over her driver's license.

"Not a problem, Mrs. Boland." The brunette laid down the license in front of her and began pressing keys on her computer.

"It might be under my husband's name. Dean Boland? Or Boland Motors. I never can keep track." Beth waved a hand dismissively.

Jessica's fingers stopped moving. She was still looking at the computer screen, but it was evident in her expression that she wasn't processing anything there. Beth watched as the young woman swallowed and lowered her gaze back to Beth's ID. "Boland Motors?" Jessica asked, glancing up.

Beth nodded. If she smiled any harder, she was going to start popping vessels in her eyeballs.

Jessica returned her attend to the screen. A few seconds later, she was looking back down at the ID. She continued this pattern of looking between the screen and the license, and Beth felt the sweat from her neck starting to spread to her scalp. Right when Beth was about to take the envelope and bolt, Jessica cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Boland, it's just that... your name isn't on the account."

Beth furrowed her brow. "It's not? That's just... so strange." She blinked, trying to look as dumbfounded as possible, but really, it wasn't surprising that her name wasn't on the account. Why would it be? She had never been interested in their finances or even had a reason to believe she should be, but that was before Dean almost lost the house.

None of that mattered, though. Beth had to get this done, and it had to be without Dean's involvement. She pressed her palms flat on the cool surface of the marble and leaned forward, meeting Jessica's nervous expression. "Jessica, I know I might be asking for a lot here, and I'm so sorry for that, but is it possible that you could go in and just add my name now? You can see that I am a Boland, after all, and it's not like I'm trying to  _take_  any money. I would have to be a terrible con artist to come along and give my target more cash, right?" Beth laughed at her own joke, tilting her head back like she was with an old friend.

Jessica was nodding, but she didn't look convinced. Oddly enough, she didn't look the least bit annoyed, either. She looked almost as ill as Beth was starting to feel. "No, you're right," Jessica mumbled. She coughed awkwardly, her voice breaking when she spoke again. "Mrs. Boland, do you ever... go by another name? A maiden name, maybe? And... a middle name?"

Beth's serene expression faltered. Now she was blinking and genuinely dumbfounded. "Excuse me?"

Jessica had started wringing her hands—a nervous habit, Beth suspected. "Do you have another name you go by? Maybe your middle name?" Her eyes dropped to Beth's license, which was still in front of her. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet. "A different middle name, I mean."

"No! My name is Beth Boland," she snapped, sounding each consonant out. Remembering that she needed to win this woman over, Beth's shoulders sagged. "I get that you're trying to do your job to the best of your ability, Jessica, but I just need to deposit this—"

"There's already another name on the account." The words came out in one faltering breath. As soon as she said them, Jessica's own shoulders slumped.

Beth stared at the teller, still and silent, for several seconds. "Okay," she finally replied, giving a curt nod. "There's a name on the account that doesn't belong to me." Each word was clear and precise, mostly for Beth's own benefit. Speaking these things aloud helped her process them. It was a  _terrible_  process in this case. Beth laced her fingers together. "Jessica, what's the name?"

Jessica began to shift uncomfortably. She stared back at Beth with pleading eyes, as if she had done something wrong herself, but no—it was becoming more and more clear that this had nothing to do with poor Jessica.

"Jessica," Beth tried again, "what other middle name might I go by?"

Jessica slowly began to shake her head, eyes rounder and rounder by the minute. She looked like she might cry. Beth imagined where this young woman had come from, where she had been, where she was going. She seemed like the literal embodiment of "wouldn't hurt a fly", which only made Beth feel worse about the situation. This poor girl was obviously so uncomfortable, so unprepared, so—

"Amber," Jessica muttered.

It didn't hurt as much as Beth would have expected. That was the problem, though, wasn't it? At this point, she was expecting this kind of thing from Dean, which was exactly why she needed those divorce papers signed and processed. But instead of doing that, she was here, drowning in the sheer disrespect that the man she had spent twenty years with had left for her to find—and for what? For a little bit of attention from Rio? For the rush of this lifestyle? No, no,  _no_ , that wasn't it. This was about her children. This was about Ruby, about Annie, about... destroying Dean's life.

Beth slid the envelope forward. "My name is Amber, and I'd like to make a deposit. Boland Motors is the account."

Jessica's mouth fell open, but she didn't move.

"Do you mind? Someone is waiting on me. This has taken up too much of our time already. Your time included, Jessica."

"Mrs. Bol—"

"My name is Amber," Beth corrected, tapping her nail on the counter for emphasis. "My name is Amber, and I'm screwing Dean Boland behind his wife's back. That makes me the mistress. He put my name on this account. On  _their_  account. My name is on the account, so I'd like to make a deposit." She spoke openly, loudly, smiling as if she had something to be proud of. A male teller to Jessica's left glanced up and over, between Beth and Jessica, and while Beth suspected that more people had heard that proclamation of hers, she didn't check to see if anyone else was lookimg.

Jessica didn't respond, didn't even move at first, but eventually, she straightened her posture and pushed Beth's ID back to her before picking up the envelope. She pulled out the cash, removing rubber bands from each stack, and then resumed typing in her computer. When she met Beth's eyes again, her expression was solid. "Would you like a copy of your current balance, Amber?"

The money never even made it through the counterfeit scanner.

Amber.  _Amber_. He had put Amber's name on the company's account. On the account that supported their family. Money that fed their children, that paid for lessons, for tutors, for the home they had almost lost— _Amber_  was attached to it. Beth considered the money that went towards maintaining their household, pictured the cash she used to buy their groceries, and imagined that name on each dollar bill.

_Amber, Amber, Amber_ —

Beth didn't care about Amber, because Amber was just a means to an end. She was a warm body, a worshiped mouth, a stroked ego. Nothing  _about_  Amber was special; not her voice, not her face, not her personality, not her name. Sure, she was probably beloved by someone, adored by her parents, a real diamond in the rough, but did Beth give a shit about any of that? She had decided, as she was walking out of the bank and back to her car, a sway in her hips, that no, she didn't care. Because Dean didn't care. Not about Amber, not about this family, and sure as shit not about Beth.

Another decision had been made when Beth walked out of that bank. There would be no more decisions made for her about her life.

\-------

Sirens wailed in the distance as Beth pulled into the fast food parking lot across the street from Boland Motors. It had took little convincing for Annie to come over and watch the kids; as it turned out, Greg was struggling to respect the boundaries that came with divorce, and Annie was more than welcoming of a chance to dodge the temptation for the night. And for all of her faults, Annie took her role as The Fun Aunt very seriously, which alleviated a lot of Beth's guilt.

Now it was almost eleven, and even with the dull glow of the street lights, her eyes strained to make out the front of the business. She had sent a tent to the new number Rio provided, no doubt a burner phone, about an hour ago. The message provided an update on Dean's schedule, including confirmation that there would be no inventory check completed for the next few days, which was a helpful little fact that Beth had overheard when she brought Dean lunch earlier in the week. She scanned the rows of inventory that crowded the front lot, feeling a twist in her gut, a tingle in her fingertips, imagining what it would feel like to break the windshield on every single one of those cars. She let herself imagine the destruction: the bits of broken glass on her clothes, the high-pitch of car alarms—the look on Dean's face.

A loud engine jolted Beth out of her fantasy. She straightened, hands gripping the bottom of the steering wheel, and leaned forward as much as she could without pressing her body into the steering wheel. She knew she needed to be cautious, to avoid detection; Rio had been perfectly clear that this wasn't meant to involve her.

The source of the noise appeared to be a black SUV that had pulled up to the dealership's gate and stopped. Someone was getting out. Beth was much too far to clearly see the person's face or any real identifying factors, but it didn't take long for her to recognize the familiar walk after the shadow had stepped out of the car and slammed the door, pausing to look down the street before he sauntered to the gate's lock. She watched from her spot, visualizing the lock's code that she had sent to him, and several seconds later, Rio was pushing the gate open and waving the black SUV inside.

Beth watched as the vehicle's doors opened, more shadows spilling out, and then Rio stepped around the vehicle, disappearing, and Beth's grip tightened on her steering wheel. The lot was a sea of black shadows. Beth was too far to see what any of the forms were actually doing, but she could see the shadows drifting deeper into the lot, hovering near cars. She stared so long that her eyes began to ache, but the contrast between the lights in her car and the darkness outside—the lights! She had left her lights on.

"Shit!" Beth hissed, scrambling to turn off her lights and the car's engines all at once. The sporadic movement resulted in her keys dropping to her floor board. She sunk down in the driver's seat, hand over her face, scolding herself for the mistake. She hoped—no,  _begged_  the universe for a chance that they hadn't noticed an idiot across the street with all of her lights on.

And after a rough two or three minutes, Beth was calm enough to peer back out her windshield. She was met with the same leaden night. The rush of relief was short-lived, because while she was safe in her car, she was also clueless. She couldn't see what was actually happening within the dealership. One pep talk, a swig of water, and many second thoughts later, Beth was out of her car and tenderly, quietly closing the car door, her back to Boland Motors.

She turned around and screamed, nearly sinking to her knees.

Rio stood in front of her, not even three feet away, hands shoved in the pockets of his coat. She placed her hand to her stomach, still doubled over. Her pulse was thrumming through every inch of her body, including the front of her temple. "You leave somethin' behind, Mrs. Boland?" he asked, voice grating, his jaw working back and forth despite the playfulness of his words.

"Why would you do that? Why would sneak up on me?" Beth barked in a hushed whisper, though she wasn't sure why she would need to be quiet at this point.

Rio's eyes widened. "Oh! Oh, shit. Yeah, you right, you right," he said, taking a hand out of his pocket to point at her. "Nah, that was my bad. I just had a different idea 'bout what we were doing. That's my fault." Beth was smoothing the front of her sweater, avoiding his stare. "See, I thought I was doing  _this_ ," he continued, gesturing to the vehicles behind them, and then he was stepping further into Beth's personal space, "and you were mindin' your own damn business."

"This is my business," she corrected, defiant, and then she shrugged. "Apology accepted. What are your boys up to in there?" She attempted to move around him and towards the lot, but he caught her forearm and forcefully guided her back to her original spot.

"What are you doing here, Elizabeth?"

Her face grew hot. "This is my business," she repeated.

"Why? 'Cause your name's on the sign?"

"Because that's what you said. This is between us, right?"

"Yeah? You remember anything else I said?"

Beth feigned consideration. "Not particularly."

"You think this is cute, huh?" Rio grinned and tilted his head to the side, eyes scanning her face, and then scanning lower.

Alarm bells were going off in all areas of her brain, because she knew he was mad, but that didn't matter; her only focus was the hummingbird that seemed to have been let loose in her chest. "Don't make me beg," she finally managed to say.

"Why not?" Rio's gaze returned to her face, brow raised. "I might like begging."

She shook her head. "No. No, you don't."

"You sure about that?" His fingers were still clutched around her arm. His grip wasn't painful, but it was secure.

The longer he held her gaze, the more she questioned herself. She shifted on her feet, trying to twist out of his hold, visibly wincing when she couldn't. His fingers uncurled as soon as she did, like he didn't want to see her hurt, but she felt too stubborn to embrace that hope. "Why do you always do this? You find me, seek  _me_ out, and then you push me away and—for what?"

"Always?" Rio echoed, rolling his eyes. "Easy, Red. You stole from me, remember? I just came to collect what you owed."

"That was then," she argued. "I got out!"

"No, I let you out," he retorted.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"You said you let me out. I want to know why."

"Why?" His nostrils flared, eyes flashing. "You wanna know why? 'Cause this shit gets old! You think I got time to chase you around, remind you every five seconds what you're supposed to be doing? To tell you to stay in your lane? I told you, I ain't got time to hold your hand!"

"You came back," Beth reminded him, her frustration turning to anger. It had only been a few days since the last time she had saw him, when he had appeared with the money and helped her do the dishes. He had spent half an hour helping her dry and stack dishes in the cabinets, and even though he had abruptly left afterwards, she couldn't help but remember that in twenty years, Dean had never done the dishes  _with_ her.

Rio clenched his jaw. He stared down at her, hard, both hands out of his pockets now. His fists were clenched at his sides. "Yeah. Yeah, I did," came the reply, and she swore she heard his voice almost break.

"I was—"

"What? Happy?"

"I was getting over you!" She flinched at the words and added quickly, "You know what I meant."

He started to shake his head. "Nah, you know what? I don't think I do. C'mon, sweetheart, tell me," he was saying, a challenge in his tone, as he moved forward again, toe to toe, their chests touching. He craned his neck, head moving down, searching to catch her stare. Their eyes finally met, and he raised both brows. When he spoke again, his voice was gruff. "Tell me how you got over me."

"That's not what I said," she argued weakly.

"It is," he murmured in response.

She could smell his aftershave, smell the cinnamon that he put on top of his latte. Her lids felt so heavy over her eyes, but she struggled still to keep them up, keep herself focused on the determination that had brought her here. It was just so hard, thinking about anything but the way he smelled. "It's not what I meant," she tried again.

The night's wind had started to pick up, the breeze pushing Beth's hair over her eyes and her mouth. Rio lifted a hand and used it to push the blonde curls away, his palm coming to rest on the side of her face. "Okay," he was whispering, "okay, Elizabeth," and then his lips had found hers, and there was no hesitance or build-up before he was kissing her hungrily.

Beth returned the urgency in his kiss, pushing both hands into the opening of his coat and balling her fists in the front of his shirt, clutching, pulling him closer, closer, closer down. He obeyed, his free hand coming up to clutch the small of her back, the fingers on his other hand tangling in her hair, the sudden pull of it making her gasp into his mouth. And he liked that, responded to it, opening his own mouth to her, his tongue meeting hers. He used his body to guide her, pushing her back against the side of her car, both of his hands now finding their way up her shirt. Her core reacted to him almost involuntarily, her chest and stomach shuddering. She had to pull back, had to breathe, but he didn't seem keen on letting his lips go unoccupied. He sprayed small kisses along her jawline, down her neck, and to her collarbone. She leaned her head back, not caring when it smacked against the metal of her car, because she was already seeing stars, swirls of white and purple and blue.

Grabbing him by both shoulders, she pushed him back enough to lift herself off the car, fumbling to find the car handle without looking. Rio caught on, reaching behind her and pulling the handle himself, resuming his mouth's journey along her collarbone once they were in the car, sitting side by side. Beth lifted herself and moved forward, placing a hand on Rio's chest and pushing him flush against the backseat. She did it carefully, cautiously, like she might mess it up.

It was her first clear view of him since the kissing had began, and the image of him now only made the hummingbird even more erratic. His mouth and the skin around it was red and flushed, his lids heavy, almost like he was drunk or even high—all from her. It made her feel powerful, like she could do anything, and especially what she wanted to do next. She lifted her hips, pushing her jeans down without bothering to unbutton them, kicking her legs to free themselves. She wasn't in her best pair of panties, but they were sheer and black, and when she looked back at Rio, he was staring at her pale thighs and licking his lips.

"Take off your pants," Beth instructed, voice hoarse.

Rio's lips curled upward, smirking. Instead of listening, he leaned over, seeking out her mouth again. She stopped him with a hand on his chest and narrowed her eyes, lips pursed. He watched her with genuine interest and then chuckled, sucking in his top lip, and then he was lifting his own hips to follow Beth's instruction, letting his pants and boxers fall messily on the floor board, next to her jeans.

Beth swung her leg over him, straddling his lap. Her underwear separated their flesh, but she could feel nonetheless, hard and pressing against her inner thigh. She pressed both hands on the back of his neck, lacing her fingers, and let him pull her hips down, hard, and then push her hips back. He guided the movements until he had created a rhythm, and then she took over, grinding down against him as she kissed him again. It was his turn to make noises on her lips, sighing, and then groaning into her mouth, so she caught his bottom lip in hers and bit down, gently, tentatively.

" _Fuck_ ," Rio moaned, his hand already moving to find the space between them and reach between her legs. He grasped at the crotch of her panties, pushing them aside, and then he was inside her. Beth gasped, nails digging into his neck, his own nails digging into her hips. They were still for several moments, Beth adjusting to him, Rio allowing her time and maybe even gathering himself a little bit, and then they started moving again. Beth's head fell back, her mouth opening to cry out, brand new noises filling the spacious backseat of her mini van.

When it was finished, she remained on top of him, resting her head on his shoulder, her face buried in the space between it and his neck, keeping him inside of her. His fingers traced unrecognizable shapes on her sides, along her spine, sending shivers throughout her body. She found herself wondering what this would turn in to, what it would look like moving forward, but she forced herself to make her mind as silent as they were. It was quiet for a long time, their strained breathing the only sound in the car, until Beth finally shifted off of him and spoke.

"Show me what's going on," she said, shimmying back into her jeans.

Rio didn't immediately respond. He had kept his coat on during the entire experience, which was evident in his red cheeks and the dampness gathered at his hairline. He was a little slower to gather himself, still looking a little love drunk when he finally retrieved his clothes from the floor and put them back on, eventually following her out of the car. Once out of the car, he reached for her neck, dragging his fingertips along the spots where he had just planted kisses.

"You need to go home," he said at last.

She froze, gaping openly at him. "Are you kidding?"

He dropped his hand from her throat, meeting her stare. "You think I am? This doesn't change anything."

Beth felt like all of the air had been knocked out of her body. Her hummingbird, who had earlier been so active, so excited, took one, final nose dive straight into her gut. The look of disgust must have shown on her face, because he started reaching for her, but she stepped back.

His hand remained extended despite her resistance. He furrowed his brow, looking genuinely confused. "It's business, ma," he offered, like it was an apology, but they both knew it wasn't.

"That's what that was? Business?" She gestured to her car as she spoke, her voice shrill. She watched his jaw begin to rock in response, his eyes set on her, like he was processing through it.

"That ain't what I said, and you know it."

"But it's what I'm asking!" Beth snapped.

"Is that why you did it?" Rio shot back, raising his own voice in response.

She guffawed at that, too stunned to speak, and turned on her heel, making a reach for the driver's side door. She was going to cry if she didn't get out of there, and that was the last thing she was going to let him see after everything that had happened that day.

_Everything_.

He was grabbing for her again. "Elizabeth—"

"Stop calling me that!" she shouted, slapping his hand away.

Rio's brows furrowed, his expression hardening. He gave her the same look he had given her when she had thrown the keys all those months ago, and she felt everything inside of her folding in on itself.

_Go home_.

It was happening, all over again, but this time was so much worse, because this time—

"Elizabeth," he tried again, but his hands were shoved back into his pockets, and her pride wouldn't let her stay, or maybe it was the fear of reliving this moment all over again.

Beth yanked on the door handle, glaring at him over her shoulder. "I made the deposit," she told him, her voice defeated despite the hardness behind her demeanor at the time. And then she added, in a smaller voice, "I made the deposit, and I really wanted to tell you about it." Instead of doing that, or waiting for his response, Beth got into her car and slammed the door, but not before remembering she had dropped her keys earlier.

While she strained to bend and reach the keys at her feet, Rio was leaning against her car, eyeing her through the window. "Get out of the car and talk to me," he instructed, not very calmly, his voice muffled by the window that separated them. She ignored him, her eyes burning from the tears as she finally grasped her keys and started the car. "Elizabeth, get out of the car!"

He was still calling after her when she peeled out of the parking lot and drove away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it took me 4 months to update and i'm really, really sorry! i hope it was worth the wait! i know a lot of people like soft rio, and i also know that my rio probably isn't the softest, but his hardness is what i really like about him. (see what i did there??) anyway, thanks for reading! i'm thinking this fic will end up being 10 chapters, so here we go. 8)

**Author's Note:**

> woof! this was a headcanon i had that i posted on tumblr. thanks to the brio tumblr community for encouraging me to follow thru on it with a fanfic! i hope y'all enjoyed it, i haven't written fanfic in 3 years. :')


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